


Never Coming Home, Never Coming Home

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Soldiers, The Ghost of you, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray learns lessons about being a soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Coming Home, Never Coming Home

There are so many things they don’t tell you when you sign up. The only thing Ray knew when he joined to help his nation was that the enemy needed to die. It seemed like enough information at the time. What man looked at the choice between cowardice leading to tyranny and fighting for freedom and chose the former? Now that he’s up to his knees in bloody sand, he realises there are a few things he should have known.

Lesson one: You will never live your own life again.

Before everything, Ray lived with his parents. In the eyes of some of his friends it made him less of a man. Ray knew they were wrong. One didn’t need to drop out of high school at sixteen and get a job to pay for a home to be a man. His relationship with his parents was one of mutual respect, there was no reason to leave before he was financially secure. Of course, living with them made it harder to court a lady. His mother didn’t approve of ‘hussies’ and would spend the duration of any lady’s visit sitting in the corner knitting. But when he was by himself his parents would respect his desire to be alone.

Now that he’s in the army, there’s no such thing as privacy. He hasn’t been alone in a room since the day he was recruited. His personal space is the size of his bedroll. After eighteen years of being an only child it takes some getting used to.

Lesson two: It is surprisingly easy to kill someone.

Every soldier has their rifle. Ray loves his M1. He is well aware it’s the most important thing he owns, the most important thing he has ever owned. It’s the standard service model for the army, but that doesn’t make it any less amazing. It’s semi-automatic, and that makes all the difference when he’s firing at one of the enemy. Most have bolt-action rifles, Ray can have two or three shots off by the time they reload.

That’s the issue though. Not that he would ever bring it up with one of his fellow soldiers, but sometimes it bothers him how easy it is for him to kill. He doesn’t dispute the fact that every member of the Axis needs to die. But when he’s shooting every few minutes and everyone around him is as well, it’s impossible to tell which bullet took down the man a few yards away. He doesn’t feel guilty for killing them, he just wishes he could have an accurate body count.

Lesson three: For your own sake, don’t look back.

Care packages only make things worse. Sure, the individual things inside them can be appreciated. A book can take the edge off of some of the crushing wait for action, any sort of entertainment is passed around between anyone that wants it. Ray always likes getting new socks. He never realised how nice a dry pair of socks was until he started having to trudge around in sand and mud and water. Wearing wet socks for long enough gets you blisters, which pop and get infected, and nobody has the time for a fever. Any food is hoarded carefully. Their rations can be stale, or crusting, or almost rotting, Ray considers it a lucky meal when they’re merely tasteless. Cookies can be a godsend, even if they are weeks old by the time they arrive.

But what most don’t appear to realise is messages don’t help anyone. They’re supposed to remind you what you’re fighting for, but no man needs a picture of babies born while he’s been gone to know that Nazis are evil. They’re supposed to let you know you’re not forgotten, still needed. Ray has seen enough men go down the night after getting a perfumed letter to know that no lady wishing luck is going to get them through a skirmish safely. They’re supposed to keep you strong, but most of the people that crumble under battle fatigue do it just after getting a lock of hair.

Every so often Ray gets a box, and inside are socks, underwear, oatmeal cookies, and a letter. He packs the first two, eats the third, and throws away the fourth, unopened. If he wants to make it home, he can’t afford to get distracted.

Lesson four: Sins at home are not necessarily sins in the barracks.

Something that takes some getting used to is the idea that men get lonely. Ray knows that no one is _that kind_ , real men of the army would never be. But on occasion you need to take the edge off. Any Christian person at home could tell you it was wrong, could point out entire passages explaining the depravity. But murder is supposed to be wrong too, and Ray doesn’t know how many bodies are on his hands.

Still, he supposes it should cross a line when he goes to piss one sleepless night -it’s been almost a year and he still isn’t quite used to sleeping with so many people snoring on every side of him- and finds Michael Way and Gerard Way together. Brothers should be far worse than homosexuals. But somehow it isn’t.

He doesn’t say anything, but neither does he leave them. Ray stands and watches from the shadows as Mikey drops to his knees and sucks his brother to completion. Gerard drops and returns the favour, and Ray doesn’t make a sound as he rubs himself outside his boxers. He watches them kiss when Gerard stands again, and can’t help but wonder if they can taste each other. He’s never had a woman want to kiss him after doing that.

After that night he makes it a habit to watch for Mikey and Gerard to leave the barracks, and gets up to go to the bathroom himself minutes later. It’s not every night, some he’s exhausted enough to actually sleep, and some the shame creeps in before he’s halfway out the room and he needs to return back to his bed. But it’s enough to consider it a habit, and that’s dangerous. He just doesn’t realise how much until they break mid kiss and stride over to him to inform him his undershirt glows in the moonlight.

Ray is expecting a punch. People that nose in each other’s business don’t last long in the army, their backs go unwatched in battle. It pays to be friendly. Instead Mikey kisses his lips, Gerard his cheek, and tell him he’s free to join them the next time he sees them.

Lesson five: no one gets out unscathed.

Their amphibious boat hits the sandy bottom and the gate opens and suddenly everyone’s running forward, M1s raised. Ray’s mind keeps focusing on little things, like how he can feel his wet socks chafe against his ankles, how the barbed wire looks different than it normally does. He shoots when he needs to, shoots and keeps surging forwards, but he’s not thinking about the bodies dropping just about how his mouth still tastes like vomit from the rough ride over the water.

And then Mikey drops and Ray runs to him as fast as he can, opening his medical kit. At home, before everything, he’d never so much as gotten a broken bone. Now he’s the field doctor, and it just seems wrong. The bandage seems to unravel in his hand, and Mikey is whimpering and he’s sure he can hear Gerard screaming over the never ending blasts of gunfire and grenades and it’s just wrong.

Mikey slumps and Ray can practically see the moment his soul leaves him. It’s the most wrong thing Ray’s ever done, but he has to stand and keep firing, keep running. He has to keep looking in every direction for buddies bleeding out so he can pretend he can fix them. It’s his role in this, and a good man doesn’t falter.


End file.
